


Make a Wish

by Aragarna



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 12:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5869339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aragarna/pseuds/Aragarna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wishes don't fulfill. Until they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make a Wish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [citrinesunset](https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/gifts).



“Make a wish, Theodore.”

The young boy closed his eyes and made his wish. He took the largest breath he could, and blew all the candles on his birthday cake. There were ten of them this time. It was getting more and more difficult with each additional year, but Theodore was very determined to see his wish come true.

Young Theodore never missed an occasion to make a wish. When Mr. Jeffries took the group to the zoo, he would throw a penny in the Bear Fountain. When they had turkey, he would ask the orphanage director to break the animal’s wishbone with him. During summer time, when the sky was clear, he would sneak out of his bedroom and lay down on the grass in the garden, trying to catch a shooting star. Once, he even asked Santa, but Mr. Jeffries said this wasn’t in Santa’s power to bring people. So, he asked for a laser blaster instead. He got a book.

As far back as he could remember, Theodore only had one wish: that his parents would finally come and take him home.

Except his wish was never granted, and Theodore eventually lost faith in fountains, turkeys and stars. In his parents, too.

Many years later, when he lost his best friend and sole family, he was very close to lose faith in the entire world.

Lonely and heartbroken, Theodore – now Mozzie – wandered aimlessly across all five boroughs, but wherever he went, the familiar streets would remind him of his friend. He couldn’t help but expect him to show up at every street corner. He kept turning around, certain he’d heard his voice. But when he looked, Neal was never there.

Not feeling inspired in any elaborate con without his favorite frontman, but still in need for a certain revenue – if only to refurbish his dangerously empty wine cabinet – Mozzie resorted to his old “follow the lady” scam. He decided to install his little stand in Central Park, an area full of gullible tourists, and his footsteps took him to the Bethesda fountain, in Central Park. More by old habit than by conviction, he looked through his pockets and retrieved a handful of coins. He picked a penny and tossed it in the water, making his usual wish. He was about to turn around but stopped short. He hesitated for a second before tossing a second coin in the fountain. For the first time in his life, Mozzie made a different wish.

For months, he held onto the hope that it was all a very elaborate con, Neal Caffrey’s greatest and final con. But in the end, as Neal never reappeared, Mozzie had to face the truth: Neal Caffrey, like his parents, was gone.

His wish, like the other one, didn’t fulfill.

Until it did.

It was one of those very strange days where nothing seems to go right. It started with his favorite bakery, which he found closed without any explanation that morning. This was a bad omen.

On his way to Battery Park – he had to relocate three months ago after an incident with law enforcement at Central Park forced him to find another location – he passed a news stand, and the front page of the International Ledger caught his attention. _The Louvre Gets Security Update_. Heart racing, Mozzie grabbed the newspaper and started reading. Was it possible? Was Neal in Paris? But he pulled himself together. Hope was viciously tenacious. But no, Neal was gone.

“If you’re gonna read it, you gotta paid for it,” the cashier said.

Mozzie looked up from the journal. He pointed to a magazine behind the cashier and plastered his most engaging smile. “Would you be so obliged?” He took advantage of the cashier turning his head to make a run for it.

Still dwelling on the vicious tenacity of hope, he installed his stand in his usual spot at the South entrance. And there, of all people, the Suit showed up, scaring the crowd away by a flash of his badge.

Mozzie tensed a little – the Suit’s unexpected apparitions usually meant troubles – but it appeared that he simply wanted to inform Mozzie that the Panthers’ trial was over and they had been sentenced to life. He also mentioned the missing money, but surprisingly, gave Mozzie his benediction on this subject. Mostly, it seemed Peter just wanted to talk and reconnect.

He decided to go home. The place had been deserted anyway. And really, it wasn’t his day. Though he had to admit, it felt good to see the Suit again. He had been avoiding both him and Mrs. Suit ever since Neal’s death, but maybe it was time to reconnect. The Suit was right, Mozzie should pay them a visit, and see the baby. On his way to Wednesday, an idea popped in his mind. He’d give baby Neal his old teddy Mozart, as a symbol of that odd connection between him and the Suit family. After all, maybe he hadn’t lost _all_ his family. And maybe even without their common denominator, they could still be a family.

The moment he opened the front door to his apartment, he felt something was off. Someone had been here. Mozzie quickly grabbed the umbrella that was leaning against the wall next to the door, and held it like a baseball bat, ready to strike. He started methodically searching each room. When he was assured that he was alone, he retrieved his bug swapper from its drawer in the kitchen and made sure no spying devices had been left in his absence. Reassured that nothing had been touched, he finally relaxed a little, and only then brought his attention to what had been left on the dinner table. There was a card reading:

 

7750 Gansevoort St  
Unit 701  
You’ll thank me later  
(or not)

  
Next to it was a key. It was an unremarkable key, with the number 701 engraved on it.

 

\-------------------------------------

 

He couldn’t believe his eyes. All of Neal’s stash was piled up in this container, as well as what looked like the accessories to his stupid “faking death” great scheme…

The joy, the pain, the relief, the anger… It was so much to take that Mozzie almost collapsed here and then.

Traitor. Judas. Neal was alive! In Paris!

Paris, of all places…

He took a deep breath, and rushed out.

 

\-------------------------------------

 

A year later, they went for a walk in Central Park. It was a lovely summer day. Little Neal was walking between his two adoptive uncles, Mozzie and Neal, his tiny hands tightly wrapped up around theirs. Peter was walking next to them, pushing the empty stroller while Elizabeth was holding him close by the arm. As they approached the fountain, Mozzie took a penny from his pocket and tossed it.

“Oh come on, Mozz, don’t trash the fountain,” Peter groaned disapprovingly. “It’s hard enough to teach Pumpkin not to drop everything all the time…”

“I’m just making a wish, Suit,” he protested.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you believe in those things.”

Mozzie shrugged. “When I was a kid, Mr. Jeffries told me that if you wished for something hard enough, it could happen. So each time I could, I wished for my parents to come get me.”

“But you’re not a child anymore,” Neal Caffrey said. “You know that simply wishing for something doesn’t make it happen.”

Mozzie looked up at him defiantly. How Neal himself dared questioning his wishes?  
Unexpectedly, it’s the Suit who came to his rescue. “But sometimes, wishes do come true, don’t they?” he said softly.

The hint of tenderness in his gaze told Mozzie that Peter knew exactly what he meant. He probably made the same wish as Mozzie. They exchanged a brief smile.

“Just maybe, stick to the shooting stars in the future?” Peter said.

“Do you think they work better than the fountains?”

“They work for me…”

“You too, Peter?” Neal asked, incredulous. “I didn’t take you for the superstitious type.”

The Suit shook his head. “I’m not. Definitely not. But it doesn’t hurt to believe in magic, sometimes.”

He turned to Mozzie. “We were planning on going upstate to my parents’ next week to see The Perseid meteor shower. There’s a much better sky up there far from the city. Want to join us?”

“Oh what a lovely idea,” Elizabeth said.

“I’d be honored to,” Mozzie said.

“Wishes are optional, Neal,” Peter added. “The Perseids are mainly a great astronomical phenomena.”

“And I’ll make cookies,” Elizabeth added.

Neal grinned. “In that case, I wouldn’t miss the trip.”

“One last thing, Neal,” Peter said. “As Little Neal’s godfather, I’ll ask you to believe in Santa for at least the next five or six years…”

Neal chuckled. “I can probably manage this.”


End file.
